Standing alone, she looks out into the expanse of trees. Her body shakes slightly from the nerves she is trying to ignore, her mind telling her to run while her heart tells her to continue. The young woman begins to walk forward hesitantly, the cold air wrapping itself around her like a shroud of ice. Her eyes linger on the rows of graves she passes, until eventually she reaches the edge of the forest. She should run; she knows she should run, but her body won’t allow her to. Someone is following her.
Soon, soon, she will tell them that she knows they are there. She continues into the trees, branches outstretched and welcoming her into the shadows. A few moments later the thundering sound of a wolf’s paws hitting the ground as it bounds into the trees causes her to turn around sharply. She watches something disappear into the forest.
This is hopeless, she thinks, and she abandons the twisted branches for the open grey sky. She will not discover anything today.
Back home she drops backwards onto the sofa, feeling annoyed that yet another trip has ended and she still knows nothing. Why would they run from her? She looks down at the news articles, each one etched in her mind with indelible ink: she knows she has to live with these images until she gets answers.
The next morning she awakens, her body aching from spending the night stretched out on the sofa cushions. She goes to work mindlessly, ignoring everything as she always does, completely focused on the answers she hopes to uncover tonight. She works because she has to, not because she wants to. She could be using this time to search, to find proof, to find anything which might help her find him.
5pm finally comes and she leaves work quickly, her feet carrying her to the cemetery without much thought needed. When she arrives she can feel a presence again. She will get the answers she needs today and nothing will stop her. In the distance she hears the snap of a twig breaking; her head jolting to face the direction of the noise in the hope that he will come out of the shadows. Although she doesn’t know the identity of her mystery follower, something is telling her it’s a man. Nothing happens.
“I know you’re following me,” she says as her eyes narrow, waiting for him to reveal himself. “You may as well come out and tell me why you’re following me.” Despite knowing that this person could be dangerous she remains defiant and unafraid. She hears movement and the man – definitely a man – starts walking towards her. He is nothing like what she expected. An involuntary smile spreads across her face as her eyes take in the figure before her: His dark hair matches his hazel eyes, and the thin t-shirt he wears outlines his well-defined muscles. How isn’t he cold?
“You shouldn’t be out here, it’s dangerous. You don’t know who you could meet in these woods.”
She laughs, too loudly to sound normal in the calm of the trees, but she’s been coming here for months and never had any problems. Inside, though, she knows he’s right. There’s something strange happening here, just never to her.
“Then what are you doing here? Why are you following me?” She looks at him expectantly but he just shakes his head.
“I’m just making sure you get out of here safe, that’s all.”
She nods, knowing he’s hiding something. That isn’t all he’s doing here and they both know it. Why is he here so late? She has a reason to be here; is he here for the same thing? Is he trying to find something? Someone?
“I can get home safe all by myself, thanks. Shouldn’t you be more worried about yourself than me?”
“Look, I don’t know why you keep walking through here or what you’re hoping to find, but maybe from now on you can walk around somewhere else?” He is praying that she listens.
“No thanks. I have to say, I’m surprised we’re both still alive, here or wherever else.” She is; she shouldn’t still be here. He looks at her surprised, her eyes seeing it clearly, so she continues. He obviously knows something and so he must be able to give her some sort of answer.
“I’ve read enough to know that something’s going on here. People disappear from this place; bodies show up with no cause of death. I thought it was all rubbish at first, just something invented by some journalist, but then it happened. Then he happened. He went missing from this exact spot, seen walking in but never seen leaving. This isn’t the only place in this town it happens, either. So why do I get out unscathed every time?”
She doesn’t understand. She’s been coming here for months and the only constant thing seems to be this man. What if he’s the reason these people go missing or die mysteriously?
“Look, I’m just trying to make sure no-one else gets hurt or goes missing. Promise me you won’t come back here at night: it isn’t safe, and you’re making my job a lot harder.”
She nods. Something is telling her he’s right, it’s been telling her the same thing since before she even spoke to him, since Dan went missing. Every day she’s been here his presence has screamed at her to run, to get out, but she never did, despite the persistent soundtrack of low growls and footsteps which admittedly terrified her a little. She had to keep coming back; she had to find out what was really happening.
“Okay, I won’t,” she lies, knowing she will return to find the answers she needs about Dan. There’s no way she can give up on him so easily, she owes him more than that.
She looks around herself; something else she noticed, her head shakes slightly.“I was waiting to see if you noticed.” Willow nods and laughs at Zander’s words.“I did, how could I not? We’re not meant to be here. This house was a mistake.” Alaric looks at her, shocked. “Okay, not a mistake, but something must happen because apparently we end up living at the witches’ house, and so do the werewolves.” Alaric laughs at her words.“No way would Gwenael and the others agree to live with the witches.” He can’t see that happening.“Well it happens, when or how I don’t know, but we were all living in that house together. We won’t do it, Alaric, not until there’s something that forces us to. And then, only then, we will. Doing it too soon might change the course of the future and then everything will change.” Willow glances around herself; she’d grown to l
“You okay?” Alaric looks at her as she nods slightly. “Really?”“Yeah, it just sucks that I never had sisters or brothers; that’s all.”“You did, you had all the witches in the house Azalea, and all the ones who visited as well.” Zander smiles at her; blood isn’t everything.“You have me and Willow, and these two as well. They can be your sisters, just don’t go tainting their innocence too quickly,” he laughs, nudging her.“I know. When are you taking them outside?” Azalea looks at them waiting.“Not yet, we’re giving everything time. Some werewolves and witches still think Willow is dead, or should be. Her own family can’t see her either until everything is sorted. Plus, we have no idea at what rate the twins will grow, so we’ll be checking on them regularly until we know.” Everyone sits quietly, the twins becoming unsettled and
Alaric sleeps on the chair, Willow moving and finding herself waking up. Her eyes glance around the room and then down to her stomach, seeing it flat. Her eyes settle on Alaric, asleep, and then notice the hands on the clock. Did she really sleep for the whole night and day?She climbs out of bed, walking to Alaric and sitting on his lap, her arms wrapping around his body. “Alaric,” she says quietly as she tries to wake him.Alaric. His mind hears her word, his body running cold as he sees her as a Monventla, a tear slipping free from his eye. Alaric, wake up. The words confuse him, his eyes opening as he looks at her, the feel of her magic radiating from within her again. He moves to hug her.“God, Willow, it’s you, it’s really you.” His arms stay wrapped around her as he cries openly, Willow trying to look at him, confused. “I thought you were gone, God, even Gwenael did and he was getting ready to ta
He watches as Gwenael walks to Alaric, glancing to the babies and then to Willow.“Is she okay?” He steps forward slightly; Zander now looking at her, his hand moving to grasp hers. Turning, Zander looks towards Alaric confused.“I can feel it and sense it Zander, what the hell changed?” He places the babies down and walks over. He can feel it; it is like she’s now becoming Monventla. He looks at Zander waiting.“If she is, she’s dead. We can’t risk it, Alaric.” Gwenael looks at Willow, he doesn’t care if it breaks laws, he’ll kill her. They just can’t take that risk. His head shakes as he looks at Alaric and Zander realising they’re not going to, he moves to walk forward, Zander pushing him back.“Give her time, I can’t feel her magic. Give her time, Gwenael, she just had the babies, her body needs to stabilise, give her a damn chance before you rip her apart.&rdquo
A piercing scream makes them turn around, Alaric’s paintbrush falling to the floor as he runs through to the bedroom.“What’s happened?” Zander leaps up the stairs two at a time, stopping behind them, his eyes widening. “She’s asleep Alaric, whatever’s in her mind is locked in there. Her magic is becoming free and causing everything to move. You need to wake her.” Alaric looks at Zander and then to Willow, everything in the room getting thrown around. He has to stop this. He walks into the room and the light flickers before exploding, Alaric rushing to Willow and trying in vain to shake her awake. Another scream escapes her mouth as more things fly around and smash against the walls.“She won’t wake up, Zander, is there not a spell you can do?” He looks at him waiting, Zanders head shaking, watching as her body begins to thrash around as she screams more. Alaric tries again to wake her up but she remains
Her mind wonders to Yasmine. Was she destined to be the one? Was she meant to be Willow, and something had just gone wrong in the process? Was she the one destined to love Alaric, have his child and bring the worlds together? She thinks about what she’d be doing now had Gwenael not told Alaric she was safe. Would she be alone without any help? Would Alaric have eventually killed her? She can’t imagine a life without Alaric, and yet she can’t understand why it has to be her when Yasmine was the same in every way. Sure, Yasmine had known she was a witch from the start, she had fallen in love with Alaric and hated that the witches turned on her for it. She wanted revenge on them for it. Was that it, though? She feels her head shaking, what if Yasmine was meant to be the one, but she was so full of hate and sadness from the witches hating her for loving Alaric that it made her turn into one of them and Serliciaus had to come up with a second option?&ld